My Favourite Idiots
by DreamingAngelWolf
Summary: In which Clint compares love to coffee, Bucky is given wisdom in the nurse's office, and Steve and Natasha stage an intervention (again). (Winterhawk High School AU)
1. The Idiots

**AN: **I had the urge for a High School Winterhawk AU, and spat this out. Steve and Natasha blindsided me completely. Also, I don't know if criminology is possible in American high schools, but your educational system still baffles me (I am learning!) so in this world it's a perfectly viable high school subject :P

The temptation to include Wade Wilson was great, but I resisted - for now...

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><p><span>My Favourite Idiots<span>

**1. The Idiots**

Bucky watched Clint stumble blindly down the aisle of the bus, smiling fondly as he fell into the empty seat on Bucky's right. "You know," Bucky said, handing Clint his coffee, "it never ceases to amaze me how you're able to even make it here on time every morning."

"Practise," Clint replied, having downed half the cup before the bus was even moving. "And knowing that this is waiting for me."

"This being…?"

"Coffee." He turned and found a semi-incredulous Bucky staring at him, so hastily added "And you," giving him a quick kiss to properly get away with the slip.

Rolling his eyes, Bucky shook his head in fond despair. "Should've known I was getting into a threesome with you and a hot caffeinated beverage."

"Too many big words. Not school yet. Shush," Clint grumbled, dropping his head onto Bucky's shoulder.

Bucky smiled, kissing the top of his head. "Drink up then. You've got fifteen minutes."

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><p>Going off how things had gone that morning, the last thing Clint expected was to be sat in criminology feeling like someone had stabbed him in the heart with a sceptre of darkness (or something less dramatic) not three hours later. He was stewing deeply enough that he didn't greet Natasha as she sat beside him.<p>

"Did Bucky forget your coffee this morning?" she asked gently.

"No, he did not futzing forget my futzing coffee. In fact, that's probably the last thing he'd forget about me – apparently I was in a relationship with coffee long before he came along, but y'know, a threesome with me and coffee is just fine. As is him questioning my loyalty, but the minute I casually ask him about his, I'm overstepping the futzing mark. What even is 'the mark'?"

Natasha stared at the side of his head, only turning away when Mr Coulson started the class. Once he'd set everyone a task, she rounded on him. "You had a fight with Bucky over Steve again, didn't you?"

Clint blinked at her, then scowled. "That's not what we're s'posed to be talking about, Nat."

"What happened this time?" When he ignored her, she gripped the tiny hairs at the back of his neck and twisted. "Spill."

"Okay!" he yelped, and Natasha released him. Rubbing his sore hairline, he sighed, glaring at the table as he spoke. "So, I might've thought Bucky was checking Steve out during gym in second period and… flirting with him in the locker room. And maybe called him out on it. And, perhaps that descended into an argument during break, where he said that he and Steve are just really close, and that he bought me coffee every morning, to which I said he didn't have to, and he said that if he didn't want to he'd make me pay for it, so then I went and said he wouldn't need to for Steve, and… yeah." He swallowed. "Haven't seen him since."

After a minute of silence, Clint finally looked up, and was met with an expression on Natasha's face that simply said 'moron'. "Would you like me to pick that apart slowly and in excruciating detail or quickly with the devastatingly obvious?"

"Uh, quickly?"

"One: you know as well as everyone else that besides the fact that Steve has a girlfriend he and Bucky could never be in a relationship because they're quote 'too close'. Two: not only is love of coffee a stupid comparison to actual human relationships but he only said he'd make you pay, implying he'd still buy it for you every morning. Three: you're just paranoid because of your own inability to be honest with yourself and those who love you."

It took a few seconds for Clint to formulate a response. "Um, ouch?"

"You picked the devastating option."

"You try picking between devastating and excruciating!"

"It was quick and now you are enlightened, aren't you?"

He sighed. "Yeah. I'm a dummy."

"Don't tell me that," Natasha said, picking up her pen and scanning the textbook. "Canteen, lunchtime, you and him. You apologise, convince him to forgive you, and the world spins madly on."

Clint chewed his lip. "What if he doesn't forgive me, Nat?"

"Then the world spins on anyway."

"But I've accused him of having a thing for Steve so many times –"

"And this will be the last time, won't it?"

"Totally, but –"

"Clint, I don't know if you've noticed this, but Bucky Barnes is in love with you." He was about to say something else when she raised her head and cut him off before the breath even left his lungs; "Are you aware that you're the only person in this school besides the nurse allowed to touch his arm?"

Staring at her slack-jawed, Clint shook his head. "I thought…"

"If you say you thought Steve had that privilege then so help me Barton I will deny all responsibility for my actions." He closed his mouth, shoulders slumping in defeat, and she placed a comforting hand on his arm. "Talk to him. Explain that you're a bit of an idiot, and a slightly insecure one at that, and he'll forgive you. You might have to throw in a week's worth of blowjobs to seal the deal, but that card could be saved for later."

Clint snorted, then folded his arms on top of his book and dropped his forehead onto them, sighing again. "Thanks Tasha," he mumbled, angling his gaze so he could see her smile.

"Anytime," she said. "But now I'm not going to give you the answers to the questions you haven't started on yet."

"What –"

"Alright, I want everyone's books on my desk," Mr Coulson said. "Make a note of where you got up to and finish the rest of them off for homework, due next lesson."

Clint groaned into the desk, failing to drown out Natasha's snicker next to him.

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><p>Bucky sighed as the door to the nurse's office opened again. "Steve, get back to lunch – I told you I'll be fine."<p>

"But I brought you food."

Giving up before a fight broke out, Bucky held out his hand and Steve handed him a couple of covered plastic dishes. "What have I got, then?"

"Lasagne, I'm afraid, and some salad." Bucky pulled a face. "I know, but they'd run out of fish pie when I got back. It was either this or potato soup."

"Great. Thanks, I guess." He dumped the food next to him, and Steve took up the spare seat.

"How does it feel?"

"Fucking sore," he grumbled, refraining from reaching up to rub his left shoulder. "Nurse Grey squeezed and poked it for a bit, then the last icepack burst, so she went to get some from the kitchens."

"What did she say?"

"It might be a torn ligament, a sprain, a rotator cuff problem, she couldn't be sure. A trip to the hospital is almost a definite."

Steve shook his head. "Stupid kids should've looked where they were going."

"It was an accident, Steve. How were they supposed to know I was already walking wounded?"

Simply nodding, Steve ceased his 'old man' complaining and fiddled with the strap of his bag. "Do you want me to let Clint know what happened?" he asked hesitantly.

Bucky's expression shuttered a little, but he ran a hand through his hair and shook his head. "I don't know. No? Not until I know how bad it is and things have… cooled off, between us."

"I'm sorry if I caused an ar-"

"Steve, you are completely innocent in this. He's the one being a jealous brat, he's the one should be apologising."

"Which he could do if he knew where you were."

Glowering at his friend, Bucky muttered "Shut up with your old man sensibility."

Fighting back a grin, Steve stood up, saying, "Come on, Buck, do you really wanna stay mad at him this long? You know what Clint's like – this might not just blow over next time you see him."

Ducking his head, Bucky mumbled, "So why you so keen to push him at me for an apology?"

"So that he doesn't have a chance to start avoiding you. Or think that you're doing the same."

Steve was right, as usual, Bucky conceded. But still; "You know, maybe some space'll do us good."

"What?"

Bucky shrugged – then hissed when his left shoulder refused to move. "I mean," he continued, "we're in each other's space a lot. Perhaps if we just back off a little, take a break or something, we can… I don't know, start again later?"

The expression on Steve's face was only mildly incredulous. "You really want that?" he asked. "A few days or weeks of just being friends with him?"

"… Not when you put it like that."

Before he knew it, Steve was in front of him in his 'listen-to-me-son' pose, hands on hips, stern set of his jaw. "Bucky. Clint loves you, and I know you love him. Hell, I've never seen either of you as happy as you are when you're together – ever, in your case. You two have what many would call a good thing, and despite what the movies say, I think that's rare at our age. Yes, you have blips, and sometimes he's an idiot but sometimes you're an idiot, but they happen, Buck. They're part of the package. You love him because he's a bit of an idiot – among other things, I know – so when he messes up, and when you mess up, you don't just throw this on the shelf to dust off later: you mend it as soon as possible. And if that means I have to drag Clint here and hold you down while he says what he has to, then on my honour as a Scout I will do so, you hear?"

Scowling at him, Bucky said, "You're too old to be using Scout's honour."

"James Buchanan Barnes –"

"Alright, alright, I'll make it up with him, Jesus!" he cried, holding up a hand. "Why'd you have to pull out the full name on this?"

"Because I'm serious about your happiness, Bucky." Steve smiled. "Seeing you and him together is great. When you're not engaged in grossly unnecessary PDA."

"Hey, we're good on that."

"Whatever," he said with a smirk, easily dodging Bucky's disgruntled swipe. "Point is, if you guys are sad, everyone else is sad, and it's not fun being sad on somebody else's behalf."

For a moment, Bucky said nothing; then he grinned, and shook his head. "Punk, you just don't want to deal with me moping."

"Ever seen your sulking face jerk? It puts lonely old men to shame."

"You'd only know 'cause you are an old man."

"Ah, but I'm not lonely."

"Yeah, and who d'you have to thank for that?"

"Peggy, I believe." Bucky snorted, and Steve laughed loudly. "Come on, you know you're my number one guy, Buck. I don't even mind that I'm your number two now."

He smiled. "Joint number one, actually. You just got the platonic side of the title."

"Maybe that's what you should tell Clint." Steve picked up his bag as Bucky's face fell, swinging it onto his shoulder. "I'm going to go and find him, okay? And you two are going to talk this out." Nurse Grey walked in before Bucky could respond, and just like that, it was set in stone.

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><p>Fifteen minutes before the end of lunch, Clint rounded the corner to the front desk and found Bucky sitting on one of the waiting chairs, murder written on his face, left arm held awkwardly at his side. He swallowed – Steve hadn't said how bad it was, but judging from Bucky's expression, it wasn't a bit of bruising to be cured by some ice and painkillers. With an entire butterfly zoo in his stomach, he cleared his throat a little and mumbled "Hey."<p>

Bucky looked up, not too surprised to see Clint. He smoothed out his expression, pushing the pain in his shoulder aside. "Hey. Did, uh, Steve send you here?"

"Kind of. Nat, um… had a few words with me, then he came and told me you'd been hurt and that I needed to see you." Clint stepped closer, rubbing the back of his neck as he stood by the chair Bucky sat on. "Your arm?"

"Shoulder," he said curtly. "Some idiot freshmen knocked me into the lockers, nurse thinks it's sprained. Waiting to get a lift to the hospital."

Clint nodded. There was a passing of awkward silence, during which Bucky stared at his feet, then he heard a sigh and Clint began to talk; "I'm an idiot."

Bucky scoffed. "Don't need to tell me."

"No I mean – I shouldn't question you about us all the time, and I shouldn't assume that the way you act with Steve means you're… y'know. Flirting. But I just – I do it because I'm still so, uh, surprised, I guess, that you've stayed with me as long as you have. Because nobody has, ever, and it's a little…" He blew out a breath. "I think I'm scared of losing you."

The last statement was said quietly, and Bucky finally dragged his gaze away from his shoes. "You don't have to be scared," he said, equally softly.

"Even if some douchebag runs your car off the road again?"

He rolled his eyes. "Let's stay optimistic and assume that isn't going to happen."

That earned him a smile, but then Clint was ducking his head again. "I am sorry, though," he muttered. "And, uh, what you said about coffee made me realise I don't really appreciate that you do that for me, so if you want me to start paying you, I'd be happy to. Just –" He shrugged one shoulder. "Remind me at first, maybe."

After a few seconds of chewing his lip, Bucky patted the empty seat on his right, and Clint took the hint to sit next to him. "I get that how I act with Steve is… maybe seen as a bit too friendly," he began, "and I can see why that might bother you. And –" He paused to take a breath. "I'm not gonna lie to you, Clint: he's just as important to me as you are. The difference is, I could never be in love with Steve. I mean, he's not the one I used to – uh, yeah, that's, that's it."

Clint raised an eyebrow at him. "Used to what?"

"Nothing. It doesn't matter."

"Then why'd you start saying it?"

Seeing no way out, Bucky sighed, and closed his eyes. "Steve's not the one I used to dream about." Not a sound came from his right, and when he dared to open one eye he found Clint smirking at the ground.

"And I thought I was the only weirdo in this relationship." They both chuckled, some of the tension easing out with the sound. Smiling softly, Bucky held out his good hand, and Clint linked their fingers together between their thighs. "I'm sorry," he breathed.

Bucky squeezed his hand. "It's okay."

But Clint shook his head, frowning. "I get that you and Steve are close – you've told me before. I've been an idiot, Bucky, and I…"

He trailed off. Letting out a sigh of fond exasperation (always fond were Bucky's sighs in regards to Clint), Bucky unlinked their fingers so he could sling his arm around Clint's shoulders and press a kiss to his temple. "Sure you are. But you're my favourite idiot."

Hard as it was to tell from that angle, it looked a lot like Clint was blushing. Comfortable in that position, they remained quiet for a few minutes, until the bell for the end of lunch rang and Clint was forced to leave. "Text me when you're done at the hospital?" he asked before leaving. "We could go get coffee or something to make you feel better. I'll buy, of course."

"Of course," Bucky said, raising an eyebrow.

"Look, I figure I probably owe you a year's worth of coffee by now, so until I get a job and can buy it regularly –"

"I'll think on my order while the docs are poking and prodding me."

Clint blinked, then a grin spread across his face. "Okay." He quickly looked around before leaning in to give Bucky a kiss, keeping it shorter than either of them would really have liked. "Hope it's not too bad."

"Me too." Bucky watched him leave, happiness settling in to keep the pain at bay. Maybe he owed Steve one now – Natasha too, from the sounds of things. Filing that away for later notice, he leant his head back and began to debate whether or not it was fair of him to order something really expensive for Clint to get him during their coffee date.


	2. The Interventionists

**AN: **Just a short epilogue ;-)

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><p><span>My Favourite Idiots<span>

**2. The Interventionists**

Steve sat next to Natasha with a heavy sigh, dropping his bag noisily onto the table. She glanced at him then slipped away her phone. "I think we saved them again," she said by way of greeting.

He turned to her. "Bucky and Clint?"

The corner of her lips twitched upwards faintly, her eyes glinting mischievously. "You intervened with the Soldier, didn't you?"

Catching on, Steve smiled. "And you had words with the Hawk."

"God, how many times is that now?" she groaned, throwing her head back over the top of her chair.

"I lost count after the Spaghetti –"

"We don't speak of that."

"Exactly." Setting his books on the table, Steve smirked. "Wonder how long it'll be 'til the next intervention?"

"The clock has been reset," Natasha said, sitting forwards again and tearing the corner off her sheet of paper. "What's your bet?"

"Mm… Six weeks."

"Ooh, that's generous," she commented as she wrote it down. "I'm gonna say three and a half."

"Winner gets a prize of their choosing?"

"Shoot."

"Six weeks says you come with me to the art show at the college this summer."

"Alright. Three and a half says you pay for a day at Coney Island for me with the problems in question."

"Deal," Steve groaned, cringing a little as she added that to the note. "Wait, do I have to pay for Bucky and Clint too?"

Natasha snorted. "After the trouble they cause us? They should consider themselves lucky I'm inviting them."

"You haven't won yet, Nat."

She wiggled her eyebrows. "We'll see." As the lesson started and the betting note disappeared, Steve wondered yet again whether she knew something he didn't.


End file.
